


Plumage

by Closeted_Bookworm



Series: Original Poetry [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Free Verse, Poetry, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:07:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28820457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Closeted_Bookworm/pseuds/Closeted_Bookworm
Summary: Does the world notice when you slip?A free-verse vent poem. Articulating emotions is a tricky business.
Series: Original Poetry [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2113098
Comments: 12
Kudos: 7





	Plumage

**Author's Note:**

> Hello... Thanks for giving my poem a chance. <3

If a feather falls out but the bird keeps flying,  
Was that feather important?  
You could argue that no,  
It was not.  
The bird is perfectly fine without it,  
It doesn’t even realize it is gone. 

You could argue that yes,  
It was.  
If a stiff, strong pinion falls out,  
The bird's flight will be less stable.  
Losing one could be a sign that something is wrong with the bird. 

But not every feather can be a pinion. 

What about the down?  
The soft, fragile, insignificant ones.  
Are they important too?  
Losing down is inevitable.  
Natural, even.  
But I put to you that its loss is still tragic.  
When a down feather falls  
The bird may not realize  
But it is a little less warm.  
If there was no down at all,  
The bird could not survive.  
And yet it does not care  
If that support is scattered at its feet. 

But what happens to the scattered down?  
It cannot be put back on the bird.  
It will never be the same.  
But the bird is not the only one it can help. 

When feathers fall,  
They are caught by the wind.  
The wind makes sure the feather can still fly.  
It may be taken to a squirrel,  
To soften the walls of a drey.  
It may be taken to a child,  
To be treasured and loved. 

Or it may be taken back to the bird.  
Because lost feathers  
Still make wonderful materials  
To build a nest. 

Where is my wind?  
I don’t know if I’m falling,  
But would a feather be able to tell?  
I can’t feel the down around me  
So have I left them,  
Or did they leave me instead?  
Perhaps I was plucked out by an outside force,  
And it was no one’s fault.

Do I need to ask to be caught before I fall?  
Do I have to go looking for the wind?  
I want to go back to the nest,  
But I am afraid they don’t need me either.  
How do I convince myself  
I’m worthy to be caught?

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to reflect some of my own thoughts, about a few different things. I've been feeling very isolated during the pandemic, and have been wondering if I may have an undiagnosed mental illness like depression or anxiety, but asking for help is difficult. 
> 
> This was written during a church meeting, edited while watching Puppet History, and transcribed from my journal while listening to soft Pentatonix and the creepy shivery side of Billie Eilish. Say what you will about "oh her music is so deep haha 14 year olds" but my seventeen-year-old self likes the vibe anyways.


End file.
